


Aches, Dreams, and a Ring that Gleams

by dreamelter



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crimson Flower route spoilers, Edelgard is way too harsh on herself: The Story, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, If I don't write some heart-melting Edeleth my head is going to explode, Light Angst, Post-Game(s), preemptive M tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-10-19 10:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20655689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamelter/pseuds/dreamelter
Summary: Two years after the reunification of Fódlan, the Emperor's crown no longer adorns Edelgard's head. Yet through all her pride, her heart weighs heavy.Heavy from the years stolen from her.Heavy from the blood that's been spilled.And heavy from the ring yet to make its way onto Byleth's hand.





	1. The Ride to Remire

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place approximately two years after the Crimson Flower route.

The rocking of the stage coach lulled Edelgard so very close to sleep, but denied her its embrace.

Their accommodations weren’t to blame at all-- The journey was about as cozy and comfortable as she could imagine. The black leather seats of the coach were soft and broken-in. No matter which way she twisted and fidgeted, she seemed to sink into bliss. She even had enough room to lie down. 

The sun had just risen, though she’d been awake for hours now. Her window offered quite the view of the countryside. The Verdant Rain Moon was steadily reaching its end. Outside the carriage’s window, the damp autumn leaves shimmered with sunlight. The land here was nearly untouched save for the dirt road they traveled down, journeying to where they’d first met. Orchids and daisies claimed these lush fields. Their soft, creamy colors rushed past the window as she looked out through half-lidded eyes. 

Cool air rushed in through the open window. The fresh, earthy scent of the dew was more than welcome-- It felt like the musty antiquity of Garreg Mach still stubbornly clung to her nostrils. She could close her eyes and vividly recall every twist and turn of those old halls.

For almost eight years, that ancient building had served as her school, her base of operations, and-- deep down in her heart, her prison.

In her twenty-four years, she had spent nearly all of it confined from one relic of a building to another, her every action followed and judged. Whether it was the watchful gaze of her captors, or the needy eyes of her war-addled subjects, the advancement of her dream had offered no reprieve from a stifling existence. These two years since Archbishop Rhea’s death had been no different. She had reached this carriage-- this idle peace-- without the slightest clue what it would truly feel like. It was merely a fantasy, something to push on her weary heart.

And now it was a reality. She was no longer the Emperor of Adrestia-- Fate be kind, there was no need for an Emperor any longer. 

It was an embarrassing admission, even contained to her thoughts, but Edelgard truly had no idea what to do with herself now. She was free to enjoy the passing scenery without comment nor criticism. No one was coming to fetch her, to rebuke her, to challenge her.

Those trying days were over now.

Edelgard had hung up her heavy armor for a light traveling outfit-- the sort of thing she wore seven years ago, before war ravaged the continent at her command.

Two years of political gambits and never-ending bureaucracy had borne fruit. The new government she was leaving behind was one she trusted to carry on an ideal earned with blood. In truth, she found herself at present more worried about herself than about Fódlan’s political future.

Perhaps the reason that she couldn’t sleep as soundly as Byleth was because this entire situation still felt like a dream. A warm dream she’d been desiring for such a long time, and yet one that made her stomach tighten in knots whenever her mind was left to dwell on it, to conjure up guilt and doubt. She gave a sleepy little sigh out the window, shuffling anxiously.

“Why am I still _like_ this?” she fretted under her breath.

She had but a second to dwell on it. Byleth’s hand glided gently over her own. Suddenly, it became rather difficult to think about much of anything, save for how powerfully aware she was of her cheeks growing red and warm. She still hadn’t even begun to get acclimated to how sensitive her hands were without gloves.

She had promised both herself and Byleth that it would be the first thing she changed when they set out-- The first step toward growing a little more comfortable with her own body, scars and all. It was lovely how much more vibrant the world felt outside of a pair of gloves. The wind on her skin, the softness of a well-made quilt, and of course the welcoming warmth of her love’s hand. 

Byleth’s fingers cradled the inside of her wrist, sliding back up to lace into her own. She bit at her lower lip, stifling a gasp as she lowered her eyes toward the ground. It felt so deliberate that Edelgard almost couldn’t believe that she was asleep. 

“Byleth, are you teasing m-”

But as she spun around to face her, any slight indignation that she could muster against her partner vanished as a smile crept its way up her lips. 

How could it not, when she was sitting like that?

They were both nestled under a thick crimson quilt they’d taken from Garreg Mach, wrapped in their shared warmth. 

Edelgard had never slept in a carriage with her before. These last two years had been such an exhausting whirlwind of activity that they’d only even managed to share a bed a handful of times. 

When they’d first gotten into the carriage, her swooning mind _may_ have dreamt up an image of what it would be like-- The two of them, upright and refined as they sipped on fragrant teas. Slowly growing more tired until their heads came to rest against one another. Giving each other gentle smiles and sharing a soft kiss before finally drifting off into sweet slumber.

The reality somehow managed to be more frustrating and more delightful all at once.

Byleth of all people-- the same Byleth who had once been likened to a demon-- squirmed in her sleep. For hours now, she’d fussed and flailed from one position to another. All that Edelgard could make of her under the covers was the back of her long blue hair, lightly resting against the crook of her hip, and a stockinged leg dangling over the edge of the seat.

Edelgard couldn’t help but giggle as quietly as she could manage. A laugh that Byleth seemed to take as an opportunity to draw even closer to her. The cushions bounced as she crawled up onto Edelgard, lifting her dozing head and easing it into her lap, burying her face into it. It was nothing short of adorable, and did nothing to calm the rosy blush that had taken over her cheeks.

“Ah…” Edelgard’s voice went up an octave at the sight. Her hand moved to cover the bashful pout that her lips had contorted into, until she reached it down toward Byleth’s unkempt blue hair. She kept her voice at a whisper as her hand swept through it.

“Is that nice?” she asked softly.

She shivered at the new sensation. It was dry and unpampered, but thick and beautiful. Her hair fit her perfectly, though Edelgard’s heart stirred at the idea at properly taking care of it. She ached to indulge in something so pedestrian. 

A low, dreamy hum answered her as Byleth nuzzled into her hand, a smile playing on her sleeping face.

“Do you like that?” Edelgard whispered to her, a giggle betraying her efforts to stay quieter. “You’re just like a little cat.”

Cute as it was, she couldn’t ride those feelings for more than a few moments before they smoldered out into a heavy sigh.

“Oh Byleth,” she stared out the window, continuing to absently play with her hair. “I feel so lucky to be here with you.

“When you collapsed in Fhirdiad...” She paused, trying to quell the lump forming in her throat, “I started begging to the Goddess. Even though we’d just killed her daughter.” Her left hand, laced in Byleth’s, clenched tighter.

“I started pleading for just a little more time with you. A year.” She brought their joined hands up to her lips and gently kissed the back of Byleth’s hand.

“A month.” Another kiss.

“A _week_.” 

The word trailed off under her breath as Edelgard felt her eyes growing misty.

“I was down to a day when you woke up.” She kept playing with Byleth’s hair, comforting herself. She was certain she wouldn’t keep her composure otherwise. Her voice was already quaking. “My mind wouldn’t stop racing. 

“Do you know those stories that Ashe used to read in the library?" 

She doted on a spot that Byleth dreamily nuzzled into. “The ones with the knights, that he was always going on about? In the back of my mind, I was worried it was going to be something like that.”

The sound of the carriage rumbling filled in where her voice had stopped-- Byleth couldn’t hear her words, but she chose them carefully all the same. “I wondered if we’d get back to Garreg Mach the next morning and you’d expire in my arms. It would be my punishment for begging for more time with you, after all the blood I’ve spilled.”

She squeezed Byleth’s hand even tighter. “I even considered if I’d deserved it.

“I feel like I’ve spent so much time until now just trying to hang onto what I have.”

Her eyes traced over the fresh, purple scars on her hands, perfectly overlapping several of her old ones. Crest removal had been just as brutal as Linhardt had surmised early on. The thought of slipping away and leaving Byleth alone was far more terrifying than an early death was-- It was what allowed her to get through it at all.

“I’m tired.”

She sighed. “Listen to me feeling sorry for us. I’ve been cooped up in that monastery for way too long.

“Thank you.” She gazed into the gleaming ring around her finger. “Two years and we’ve only had a few days to ourselves, and you haven’t complained about it once. I swear, I’m going to make it up to you.”

Edelgard’s expression softened, but her eyes stayed glassy. She lowered them to the ground.

“I love you so, so much, Byleth.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Sometimes I really don’t think I deserve you.”

She felt Byleth’s weight shift-- and then speech rang out from her lap.

“Of course you do, El.” 

Whatever words were about to come out of Edelgard’s mouth, Byleth had reduced them to a strained, mortified little squeal. Slowly, her neck craned down to her lap. Byleth’s head rested sideways on it, her lavender eyes blinking away at her sleepiness. Her expression and voice were calm and familiar-- It was a rare joy to see her waking up, one that Edelgard would have relished if her heart hadn’t hopped up to her throat.

“G-Good _morning_...” Edelgard stammered. It was taking all of her energy to not bury her burning-red face in the seat cushions. Somehow, the gentle comfort of the quilt had grown unbearably hot, and yet she wanted nothing more than to hide herself in it.

Byleth gave her a kind smile. “Good morning.” Smiles came much more naturally to her these days, ever since her heart started to beat again, but Edelgard never tired of them.

“How long have you been..._awake?_” she choked out that last word.

Her question was met with silence. Byleth’s eased breathing filled the void. Though she could feel their fingers unlacing, Edelgard couldn’t seem to rip her gaze from her partner’s piercing eyes. 

Dorothea had warned her about those eyes so many years ago. How they delved deep into your mind, and left the door open on their way out. How they made you--

–no, _showed_ you that she was always able to accept you.

That feeling washed over her as Byleth’s hand cupped her cheek, making her breath hitch. The cushions bounced again as Byleth pushed up off the seat around Edelgard’s lap, hoisting herself up in one fluid motion-- Perched on her knees, but tall enough to look down at her, the quilt loosely hanging off of her shoulders. Cradling Edelgard's cheek, her hand slid up into her wealth of white hair.

“I’ve embarrassed you a little, haven’t I?” Byleth whispered affectionately. 

She managed to force out a single, subtle nod.

Byleth drew her a bit closer. “Come here.”

Her tone didn’t contain a trace of teasing. It would have been much easier to handle if it had-- Some nonsense like _‘Getting a little hot under the collar?’_. She had long gotten used to denying a decade of would-be suitors and their empty, honeyed words. Nearly her entire life had been spent staring down gallant fools, deplorable monsters, and everything in-between. She’d leaned into the rumors that used to dance around Garreg Mach, that no one ever dared to court her twice--

\--And absolutely none of that made Edelgard any less captivated by the woman easing her into a content confession. She hadn’t realized how utterly starved her mind was for Byleth’s comfort. Just a few strokes through her lush hair were enough to guide her half-lidded eyes steadily to the ground, her hands neatly into her lap. She felt sheepish being aware of it-- How easily this feeling blossomed when Byleth doted on her like this, how _good_ it felt to able to lower her head to someone who made her crave it.

Byleth’s hands were lithe, but so very strong. She effortlessly held up Edelgard with a gentle touch-- spreading her fingers and tracing a pattern up and down her neck and shoulders. Over and over, until Edelgard grew used to it. Until her breathing grew slow, and she happily leaned into Byleth’s arms, so close that she could feel her heart beating. The cushion, the carriage, the countryside-- They all faded away into nothingness. Not a bit of anxiety remained in Edelgard’s heart as she closed her eyes, letting her lips part in a quiet gasp as Byleth’s fingers draped down her arms, coming to rest on her hands. She trembled in anticipation. She could feel Byleth’s breath on her forehead.

Through downcast eyes, she could just barely make out the flash of white teeth, of a warm smile. “Is that a little better?” Byleth soothed her. Two fingers cupped her chin, slowly lifting her head up.

She mirrored Byleth’s expression. “A lit--”

Edelgard’s answer vanished-- It collapsed into muffled noise as Byleth leaned in, pressing their lips together. It billowed out into the air in stifled little gasps as Byleth gently sucked at her lower lip, coaxing her mouth open. It danced down Byleth’s throat in hot, grateful moans as their soft tongues played with each other, reaching a rhythm as they closed their eyes, easing into each others warmth.  
She wrapped her arms tight around the back of Byleth’s neck, pulling her in tight. They broke their wet kiss and she buried her face into the crook of Byleth’s shoulder, drinking up the scent of her skin-- It always made her feel so very safe.

Edelgard clung tight, even as she toppled backwards onto the seat cushions with startled laughter. The early morning light was blocked out by the dark blue hair that draped around her as Byleth perched over her on an elbow, her stray locks tickling at Edelgard’s face.

The blush that was slowly painting its way onto Byleth’s face betrayed the grin she beamed down at Edelgard, though it filled her with relief to see her partner just as flustered. They happily sat there gazing at one another, listening to the sound of the carriage driving along, until Byleth broke the silence.

“I’m not going anywhere, El.” 

Laughter played at the edges of Byleth’s voice as she spoke. “I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck with me for a very, very long time.”

Edelgard giggled, reaching up to stroke at her reddened cheek. “No, no. _You’re_ the one who’s going to be stuck with me. An acceptable punishment for eavesdropping," she teased.

Byleth’s expression softened. “I couldn’t quite bring myself to interrupt. I love listening to you speak. It’s powerful and captivating.” She furrowed her brow just a bit as she searched for the right words. “But that was just a little too sad for my liking.”

She dropped her weight, sliding next to Edelgard and cuddling up against her, drawing the quilt over them both. “My father told me to give that ring to someone who makes me happier than anyone in the world. There’s never been a day where I’ve regretted giving it to you.”

Again, she paused. “I… love the idea of people seeing you wearing it. Because I love you, Edelgard. So please don’t ever say that you feel like you don’t deserve me again.”

Pride radiated from her smile. “I’m so proud that you’re the one I love.”

Those bold words hung in the air for a while, even as Edelgard’s eyes started to swim and she bit down hard on her lip. “You’re...” Edelgard paused. It wasn’t clear to either of them if she was taking her time to try to say the right thing, or trying to force back her own tears.

“You’re a lot more eloquent than you give yourself credit for Byleth.” She smiled back.

She buried herself into Byleth’s neck again. Her eyes were wet, and she could feel them dampening Byleth’s skin.

A low little laugh danced into Edelgard’s ear. "There, there.” Byleth cradled her head-- Her tone was protective. She hadn’t heard that in a while-- since the days where she called Byleth ‘Professor’. 

“It’s ok to cry, you know. Weren’t you the one who comforted me when I cried for the first time?”

“I,” Edelgard's voice was quavering far too much for her liking. She took a few deep breaths, counting the beats of Byleth’s heart to steady herself. At last she looked up, her eyes still a bit puffy, but gleaming with drive. “I don’t want to cry here. Or over this.” she said sternly.

“Thank you.” She gave Byleth another tender kiss, groping around blindly for her hand and clutching it, stroking at her naked ring finger. “I want that too, Byleth.”

Guilt played at Byleth’s face. “Did you want to…?”

“No,” Edelgard shook her head firmly. “Not like this.”

Her expression softened up a bit. “You were right, Byleth. I’ve waited this long, I can wait a little longer.” She giggled. “I’m actually looking forward to it a little.”

Edelgard hadn’t had a ring to give during the most beautiful moment of her life. It hadn’t made it any less gorgeous. But, perfectionist that she was, she’d spent well over 3 weeks trying to pick out a ring that perfectly expressed how she felt for Byleth. 

She had completely failed to find one, and so she had one made. She’d drawn it, commissioned it from the best jeweler in Fódlan, and dived headfirst into the political agony that the next two years of her life would become. 

But by the time it arrived months later, and her heart leapt with joy, Byleth stopped her from even opening the box in front of her.

She still remembered Byleth’s words.

_“I want things to be just as happy when I get that ring. I want you to have as much pride as I had when you give it to me. I want you to be burning with it, El.”_

Right now, the only things burning were her cheeks, and the ring box burning a hole into a pocket in her cloak.

Byleth nodded warmly, looking rather sentimental. “I can’t wait to see what you chose.”

Edelgard leaned into her soft chest, sighing comfortably. “You’re going to love it.”

She could feel Byleth’s breath hitch.

They sat there, at peace for some time, until Byleth finally decided to change the subject. 

“So how was your last day at Garreg Mach?"

Edelgard’s soft little peals of laughter were a relief to both of them. “Would you believe Hubert got sentimental on me?”

Byleth’s face lit up with curiosity. “Oh?”

She raised her head and looked at Byleth as she started to recall yesterday’s events, still snuggling into her. “Well, you see...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you enjoyed the start of this story. I haven't written a fic in a very long time and I'm admittedly a little terrified at writing something so mainstream, but I'm doing it anyway! It took me a little while to figure out an idea that I felt was worthwhile to work on.
> 
> These ladies absolutely melted my sapphic heart and I really want to write something sweet that both gives them the emotional heaviness that follows a war, and also feels very gay and not like Byleth's gender is irrelevant to the story. Hopefully I succeed!
> 
> I'm leaving the chapter count blank at the moment, but I believe it will likely clock in at 6 or 7 chapters. There's going to be some mild sexual content later, so I am preemptively tagging this M.


	2. Canis

_1 Day Earlier, Garreg Mach Cardinals' Room_

The rapping at the open door was pure formality-- Even with her eyes cast out the window at the setting sun, she knew who those footsteps belonged to long before they’d reached the room.

The sunset hitting his cloak cast a long shadow across the room. This place weighed on her. Too many dire decisions were made at that long table.

“I see you can still wear your armor.” he observed. The tight crimson set of metal plates clung to her body oppressively, though she’d long abandoned her horned crown-- A gesture that Adrestians were not paramount in a unified Fódlan. Her platinum hair neatly draped down to her back, the pale skin of her armor window peeking out through it. Despite the successful surgery, Linhardt had determined that her brown hair would likely never return.

“Just one last time,” she declared with an audible pang of relief, still staring out the window. “I wanted to prove I could carry it without that crest pulsing through my body. It’s been quite a while.”

“I see,” Hubert noted flatly. “And I assume you deem it doable?”

“Here I stand,” she stated confidently. 

“Well done,” he congratulated her with hollow warmth.

“Of course.”

It was a lie. They both knew that much. It was so unbearably heavy without the Crest of Flames bolstering her strength. The overlapping crimson plates that adorned her shoulders rubbed small bruises into muscles that could no longer support their weight. The pair of gauntlets adorning her hands made her wish for nothing more than to let them droop down at her sides-- she doubted she could even lift a sword with them on, let alone Amyr.

Her once-toned waist was no longer able to bear the reinforced corset that shielded her torso. Even with it loosened a few centimeters, taking a deep breath was arduous and exhausting. A set of thin, overlapping sheets of metal concealed beneath her red skirt made her back ache as she forced herself to stand upright. The collective ague of all these burdens pushed down on her tight armored boots, chafing at her feet from heel to toe.

Doable? She wanted to scream, and he knew it. Despite all of that, she stood with her head held high, in the body she was meant to have. Her stubborn mind wouldn’t permit her to offer a bit of credit to that curse steeped into her blood.

‘I didn’t need the crest to wear my armor.’ 

For now, no matter how exaggerated, that claim was made reality, and Hubert didn’t dare ruin it.

“So, are you here to wish me off, Hubert?” she asked warmly, turning with a happy smirk to meet his gaze. His company was a welcome reprieve from focusing on her exhaustion.

The little huff of air he blew out was just enough to pass for amusement-- For Hubert, anyway. “I am indeed. Though I still wish you’d reconsider.”

She beckoned him over towards the window, mirth dancing in her voice. “I’m pretty sure you’d have to fight Byleth over me.” 

He chuckled as he came to stand next to her-- again, what passed for chuckling. She’d learned to read him over the years, though few outside the Black Eagle house ever seemed to try. It was quite common to leave the dining hall far emptier than they’d found it, everyone slowly coaxed out by a torrent of foreboding statements and wicked laughter.

Despite his demeanor, only Byleth fostered more trust in her heart. She was grateful that he made it through the war.

“I’m rather sure our Professor would paint me scarlet against the wall.” Hubert proclaimed, sounding far too happy about the prospect. “And although it would suit this room perfectly, you can drop your defenses, Lady Edelgard.”

He shot her a sidelong grin. “I’ve no intention in getting between you and your wife. Goddess knows you’ve earned the right to pick your own path.”

“My fiancee,” Edelgard corrected him coolly. 

“Right. Of course.” Hubert's smirk grew wider, his tone dry. “My apologies. You’re not even on the road yet. It seems I’m twenty-four hours ahead of myself.”

Edelgard’s eyes darted back out the window as her cheeks came to match the rosy sky. “This is quite a bit of teasing for a farewell, Hubert.”

“Quite a bit you’ve earned for making our dear Professor squirm so long.” 

As she waited for a second round of teasing that never came, the silence weighed on her. She chanced a glance away from the window toward him, only to find all traces of humor gone from his face. A sigh escaped her lips.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, a bit exasperated. 

“I’m happy for you both," he started, in one of those frustrating tones where she knew it would be followed by a--

“But,” he continued-- She felt her eyebrow twitch as she heard it. “I suppose I’m confounded.”

She stood quietly as he began to pace, searching for the right words. Hubert’s behavior piqued her curiosity. He was always quick to speak, caring more about the content of his words than how they made others feel.

“You fought for years to shift this country’s rule to the fate of elections,” he rubbed at his temples absent-mindedly as he spoke. “To get the best people into the best positions, chosen by the powerless. To make crests and birth-status irrelevant. To free everyone from that horrid nonsense. That message, _your_ message, is what I put my life on the line for, and I am not the only one.”

His tone eased up, just a bit. “I say that proudly, even through my protests.

“That’s why I just don’t understand,” Hubert admitted, his brow furrowing in frustration. “You’re arguably the most liberating figure in Fódlan’s history. Professor Byleth is a tactical genius. Her efforts would prevent needless death should our government’s transition grow turbulent. You would both easily win an election by the will of those you liberated.

“So why?” 

The resentment he fought to contain bled into his words. “Why are you both abdicating the creed you nearly died for?”

Edelgard heard the sound of her own breath hitching, her expression steeling at his statement.

“If I don’t ask now, it will fester in my mind. I didn’t venture as deep into the flames of Fhirdiad as you two, but you left them a different person. Is your love truly one that requires you to make yourself a vagabond? Do you not wish to see your dream bear fruit?”

Doubt honeyed the end of his plea. “I know Fódlan means so much to you. And I refuse to give into those nagging whispers in my mind. I refuse to regard you as some lovesick girl who--”

“Stop,” Edelgard barked at last. “Stop, Hubert. Even if you claim you doubt your own hunches, those barbs sting all the same.”

Hubert sighed, his fervor fading as he recomposed himself. “Forgive me. I’ve overstepped, clearly. I’ll retract my statement.”

Edelgard took a deep breath. She noticed at last how tight her small hands had been clenched-- her nails had etched crescents into her palms. “For someone so brilliant, you’re awfully short-sighted sometimes,” she criticized. “Your mind has always been preoccupied with war, with death, with prevention and revenge and suppression.”

She walked toward Hubert with intent, staring him down sternly. “But you’ve never opened your mind to what came after. Almost like you expected to extinguish yourself for me, and were disappointed to find yourself still here after the dust settled.”

Hubert shifted uncomfortably, though he made a decent effort of hiding the nerve she’d struck.

“Burn it down,” she declared forcefully, “and something else will take its place. Those were the words we always whispered to each other.”

Her lips curled into a confident smile, even as her eyes stared daggers. “There is another Edelgard out there,” she stated proudly. “She might be a little girl with not a drop of valued blood in her. Her future was restrained to a few simple tasks, no matter how brilliant her mind’s potential.”

A happy hum danced out of her throat as she allowed a moment’s daydream. “And now she can learn. She can grow, she can lead!

“She can lead,” she repeated her words, “unless we all cling fast to our old positions of power. And everyone will look to the Emperor’s example.”

Hubert’s clenched his jaw. “I see.”

“Make sure people find her, alright? The next Edelgard. The next Hubert.” 

Hubert failed to veil his surprise as Edelgard let out a little laugh. “The next Byleth too. Some of them are going to do such wonderful things. They’re no longer going to be locked away from so much of life.”

She grimaced. “My rule was made possible by death, shaped by death, secured by death. Despite all we’ve done, it’s an ugly, oppressive thing. I’m very much looking forward to seeing what people manage through living freely. I think that’s the only way I can really rest my head.

“When that times comes, Hubert, I trust that you’ll support them with everything you are. I hope you won’t long for me to don a crown again. Despite the jeers cruelly uttered against House Vestra, you are _no_ dog. I won’t ever let you think like one.”

The shadow of his body blanketed her as he craned his neck down to stare at her. His eyes were icy. “And if I end up being a dog after all?”

Slowly, teeth peeked out between her grin. “Then I’ll drag my axe back to Enbarr and put you down myself.”

The sound of their still breathing echoed through the room, as neither of them dared to avert their gazes.

Until a quiver possessed Hubert's lips, and the stifled spasms of his throat bubbled out into pleased chuckling.

Her eyelashes fluttered a few times in confusion. Was Hubert really laughing?

They shared the same bemused expression, then the same contagious amusement, feeding off of each other until their awkward giggles exploded into unbridled laughter. It was the first time anyone had laughed in that horrible room. They savored it, even as they tried to figure out if they’d finally lost their minds.

“You--” Hubert managed to force out between bouts of laughter, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he tried to compose himself-- Stunned to find himself like this. Edelgard found herself just as lacking-- Her sides were starting to hurt from laughing so much in this armor. Though it hurt, it was satisfying to feel aching muscles that she hadn’t used in well over a year. 

Their mirth eventually eased up enough to finally speak again. They mirrored each others grins, though Edelgard fancied hers less terrifying. Both of their chests were still heaving with satisfying fatigue.

“You’ve still got that fire in you alright," Hubert complimented her, relief in his voice. 

“You’d really do it, too,” his eyes sparkled. “Even without the Crest of Flames in you.”

“I’ve--” she clutched at her ribs, still steadying the mirth shaking her voice. “I’ve never seen someone so thrilled about the possibility of being murdered, Hubert, but you’d definitely be the one.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes as he gave a wicked grin at her statement.

Their amusement simmered off a bit as he took a deep breath in and out, nodding his head. “Following your ideals has never led me astray,” he flashed a half-smile. “Not once, and I’ve grown rather tired of letting doubt rest in my mind.

“I can’t pretend I share your optimism,” he admitted, “but I can promise you that if there’s another Edelgard out there, I’ll make sure she lives long enough for you to see her get where she needs to go.”

He gave her a half-bow, an arm tucked behind his back. “Whether those are the words of a man, or the words of a dog, you have my promise all the same.”

As he looked up from his bow, the face beaming at him caused his pale face to redden. 

“Thank you, Hubert.”

“Lady Edelgard,” he nodded. 

She followed the path of his averted eyes to the table beside them-- She hadn’t noticed the ornate, cream-colored box laid on the table when she entered.

“Is that yours?” she asked.

“Yours, actually,” he gestured toward it.

Edelgard wasn’t aware someone could feel warm and also get a pit in their stomach all at once, but Hubert certainly had a way of bringing out the unusual in people.

Last time Hubert gave her a present, he promised it was something she’d find quite wonderful. It had been after their first major raid on the shadow organization he had dubbed ‘Those Who Slither in the Dark’.

She’d opened the box back then to reveal the skeletal hand of Lord Arundel, his signet ring hanging loosely off a drooping ring finger. 

A chill ran down her spine as she untied the ribbon from the package in front of her, remembering the words he uttered far too calmly a few months ago.

_“He got away, sadly. I look forward to giving you the rest of him soon.”_

But the gift contained inside was nothing so ghastly.

She gently raised the object out of the box toward the window, where she could get a better look at it.  
It was a tea pot, elaborate and crafted with care. Edelgard had never seen one even remotely like it. The material was a smooth fragrant clay, a stark contrast to the delicate porcelain she was used to. Painted a mottled blue, the centerpiece of it was the elaborate design that wrapped around it-- A miniature Fódlan painted onto it, gold and black, with a series of red initials scattered about the continent. Surrounding it were two fiery, stylized crescents wrapping around the top and bottom rims. She recognized their design immediately-- Amyr and the Sword of the Creator. The lid of the pot was adorned with a tiny, two-headed eagle that stood atop it. 

Gently, her lips parted apart in awe. “Who made this...?” she stammered out quietly, still poring over it. Though it wasn’t how she expected, he’d given her another gift that sent chills down her body.

“The Black Eagle House, collectively,” he replied. “After quite a bit of mockery at my expense for suggesting such an idea. Bernadetta drew out the design. The clay is Dagdan, and we had it made by a craftsman outside the monastery. They say if you use your favorite tea on it, over and over, it eventually absorbs the flavor.”

“It’s beautiful,” she marveled.

He let out another pleased huff of air. “Given how much tea means to you two, we all figured it was a fine gift to send you off with. Much as I protested your motivations, even I thought it was a fine sentiment.”

A wicked peal of laughter left his lips. “I suppose I figured you’d convince me one way or another.”

Edelgard didn’t react to his mirth at all as she walked back to the table, carefully setting the pot down. “What are the markings for?” she asked a bit distantly. 

“There’s a bundle of letters inside of the box,” he answered, unphased by her flat affect. She opened it, taking in its contents as Hubert summarized it, her eyes wide as saucers.

“We each decided to mark our most valued location in Fódlan with our initials,” he explained. Though he couldn’t tell, Edelgard’s eyes grew far too misty to keep reading any of the words written on the pages she slowly unfurled. “And in those letters, we explained why we chose them. I can say with certainty that you haven’t been to quite a few of them.

“You and the Professor have been rather indecisive on where in the country you wish to settle down”, he continued. “So if you’re ever finding yourself lost out there, we collectively decided this would be a way to offer our support, no matter where you might be.”

Hubert’s sigh was tinged with embarrassment as he looked away from her. “Listen to me,” he smirked. “How sterile. I’m really not the best one to deliver this sort of message. Someone like Dorothea would have been far more appropriate, but everyone unanimously settled on myself.

“Everyone took quite a while to decide, but you wouldn’t believe how long Ferdinand took to make up his damn mind," he jeered. “Despite my...” he blushed just a bit, “_affection_ towards him, he can be horribly--”

She crashed her body into him before he was able to turn his head back toward her, pulling him into a tight hug. Despite their long friendship, there wasn’t a single memory she had of herself-- or anyone else-- ever embracing Hubert. For just a moment he tensed up like a statue, until she felt him awkwardly return her hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered. He didn’t flinch, even as her armored fingers dug at his back. 

“_Thank_ you,” her voice cracked. “Th...”

Something teetering between sobbing and giggling poured from her lips as she leaned into him, her voice muffled against his shoulder as she tried to stifle the noise.

Edelgard lingered there for a while as he pat her back over and over. Hubert was warm. Somehow, she always imagined him feeling like a corpse.

She let out a shaky little laugh at the thought, blinking away the tears that hadn’t bled into his coat. “My my, look at me,” she whispered. “The mighty Edelgard, acting like some sentimental old woman.”

They stood silently for few minutes, as guilt pricked at her heart. There was no way Hubert of all people was alright with something like this.

She was forming a suitable apology in her mind, until he spoke up.

“Don’t chide yourself excessively. It feels… _nice_,” he tried his best to sound sincere with a word so often said wryly, “to be trusted with this. You’ve already proven yourself plenty strong, Edelgard. Tears won’t wash away your triumphs.

“I can’t say I’m the type to weep,” he admitted, “but I’m happy you feel comfortable doing it in front of me.”

“Of course,” she replied as she steadied her breathing, her voice settling back to normal. “You’re a very dear friend, you know. It feels so very distant now, but when we came to Garreg Mach you were the only one alive that I could trust.

“I’ll never forget that, Hubert. I wouldn’t be here without you. You’re always going to be very special to me, so please don’t think I was masking my emotions around you.

“I suppose they’re just flooding back, really,” she mused. “I never thought life would give me so many people to miss.” Her voice was bittersweet. “It’s wonderfully exhausting.”

He let out a long, happy sigh. “Now that we can agree on.”

“Thank you all so much,” she spoke with sincerity. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me. I’m honestly touched.”

She rested her face against his coat before looking up at him, brimming with warmth. “I’m no stranger to my own stubbornness," Edelgard admitted. “Byleth and I would have taken this journey either way. Our hearts are set on it.

“But knowing you all embraced it, that you all decided to be a part of it-- I love that.”

Her sentimental expression grew a touch mischievous. “I’m surprised someone so averse to tea came up with such an idea.”

“Well, I won’t be the one using it. Besides...” The spreading blush was especially notable on his pasty complexion. “After years of being compelled to sit down with the Black Eagles, especially a certain…”

“A certain _someone_?” Edelgard grinned. She never tired of teasing him over Ferdinand. 

Though he tried to ignore her, his blush deepened. “I must admit tea has gotten quite a bit more special to me.”

Her gaze strayed over to the tea pot, staring at the Sword of the Creator swirled around the rim.

“Me too, Hubert,” she smiled proudly. 

“Me too.”

\---

Byleth listened to the entire tale with bated breath, until Edelgard seemed to give it some closure. They were still snuggled tightly together. It was so very warm. She wasn’t normally one to entertain such cozy thoughts, but Byleth in that moment couldn’t imagine letting Edelgard squirm out of her arms.

“I can’t wait to show you it!” Edelgard exclaimed. “Ohh, I’m not normally one to gush about these things, but it was so thoughtful. I’ve got it stowed away in the carriage, you’re going to love--”

She stopped.

“Byleth,” Edelgard cooed in a comforting tone, sliding her hand up to her partner’s cheek. “You’re crying.”

The face Byleth made went from confusion to wonder as she touched the same spot as her love, finding her cheeks wet and warm.

“Ah,” Her lips parted gently in awe-- She never imagined this sort of thing happening to her. “I am.”

Her complexion started to go rosy. “I really liked your story,” she admittedly a bit bashfully. 

She could feel Edelgard pressing closer into her as her lithe fingers curled around Byleth’s hand. “That makes me very glad. So those are happy tears then?” Edelgard asked gently.

“I suppose they are,” Byleth agreed. El was giving her that look again-- That face she made when, for reasons Byleth still struggled to grasp, her partner thought she was acting adorable. She squirmed a bit uncomfortably at the realization. 

“I always imagined this being a little more eventful,” Byleth confessed. “Everyone else seems so overwhelmed when it happens.”

Edelgard giggled, scooting her body up, their noses practically touching. “I don’t think there are any rules on tears, my love,” she reassured her.

“You don’t think it’s odd?” Byleth stared out the window at she spoke. The pang of insecurity she felt was a rare thing. She still hadn’t quite worked out how to deal with it.

With a soft shake of her head, she kissed tenderly at Byleth’s damp eyes, one after the other. “You cry as much as you want, my love,” she whispered. “I’ll always hold you tight when you do. Don’t ever feel like you have to explain why.”

Byleth felt the tension leaving her body. Suddenly, everything around her felt very safe. “Okay,” she promised, nodding her head.

“Good,” Edelgard affirmed, running a hand gently through her blue hair.

Byleth hummed happily, nuzzling into Edelgard’s hand. “I really like this, you know,” she smiled, her eyes going half-lidded.

Her joy was infectious. “Just wait until I get to pamper that hair a little,” Edelgard doted on her, giddy at the prospect. “I’m so curious to see how you like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll--” Byleth blinked at her fatigue, a loud, dreamy yawn cutting short her thoughts.

“Sleepy?” Edelgard pulled her a bit closer. 

“It seems so," Byleth let out a tired little laugh.

Byleth watched as she pulled the covers up around them, leaning snugly against her. Edelgard slid up just a bit more, enough to let Byleth nuzzle her face into the crook of her neck. “We’ve still got some time, it’s early yet. I think a few more hours would do us both some good.” 

She coaxed Byleth into closing her eyes. 

The mercenary lifestyle had made Byleth proclaim many a time that she could sleep everywhere--

\--But as she faded off into a sound slumber, with Edelgard’s sweet words dancing in her ears, it was hard to imagine laying her head anywhere else but here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the brief delay, I've been a bit under the weather but am feeling much better. 
> 
> Even though the heart of this story is Byleth/Edelgard, I've always really liked the conspirator-turned-friends connection that Edelgard and Hubert have, and I haven't really ever seen a fic focus on that for any length of time at all. It seemed like a fun way to do a chapter that contains a lot of infodumping, so I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I promise they're going to get to Remire village next chapter, though the idea of taking naps and working out their catharsis for all eternity is tempting hahaha~ 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, my dears! Writing a story with this sort of emotional dynamic feels really wonderful, and I'm having a lot of fun with it.


	3. Mending

_Several months earlier, Garreg Mach_

“Edelgard!” the young voice cried out next to her. Much as she tried to assert herself as an adult, much as Edelgard respected her, Byleth knew that her partner had a penchant to dote on Lysithea.

Though one wouldn’t guess it at first sight, the two quickly found themselves to be kindred spirits. Their minds both fervently toiled in defiance of their shortened lives. Both of them shared the same platinum shade of hair-- Pale, drained of the color and life it once held. They were among the most petite members of what was still clandestinely known as the Black Eagle Strike Force, yet they were both frighteningly powerful. 

And of course, their biggest similarity--

\--They were somehow even more stubborn than they were strong.

“Hey!” the sound of Lysithea’s little heel stamping on the stone floor echoed through the halls as they stepped outside into the courtyard.

Byleth walked side by side with Edelgard, oblivious to how tightly she was clutching her hand. They were flanked on both sides by a quartet of assistants-- Healers garbed in ornate purple robes, hoods obscuring their faces. The color was rapidly supplanting the Adrestian red that thrived before it. It decorated currency, clothing, and flag alike.

Months ago, Byleth had asked Edelgard what motivated the change. Was it that no one should have to don the colors of a country that conquered them? Was it that we all needed a new, united symbol to rally behind, so we didn’t fester in the memories of war? She merely replied, _“I think we’ve all seen enough red for a lifetime, Byleth.”_

She could hear Lysithea’s breath racing as she caught up with them. The blood reconstruction surgery that she suffered through preceded Edelgard’s by quite a bit of time, and the consequences of bearing two crests were finally beginning to show themselves. After running merely a few meters, sweat was already beading on Lysithea’s forehead. Her skin was even paler than Byleth remembered. Though she tried to steady her hands when she performed tasks, she failed to conceal the worsening tremors that constantly put her frailty on display.

She was a window through which Edelgard saw her bleak future.

“Y--” Lysithea panted, catching her breath with a frustrated little hiss. “You can’t do this first!” she objected.

“I can.” Edelgard forced a smile as she turned her head sideways to face Lysithea. “I should. I will. Please don’t try to talk me out of it.”

“Look, you’re more likely to survive with a guinea pig, right?” the young girl insisted. 

Edelgard’s brow furrowed at that statement. “You’ve put quite enough on the line for me. I’m going to return the favor.”

“This plan is completely harebrained anyway!” Lysithea barked back. “You have what, a coin flip’s chance of living through it?”

“Ouch.” Byleth recognized the voice coming from the hooded figure as Linhardt. “Lay it on thicker why don’t you?

“I’d say it’s a little better than that if things don’t go to hell immediately.” he rebuffed her. “Give me a little credit. Right now we’re still on the conjecture end of things.” 

He grimaced. “You’re certain you’re ok with this, right Edelgard? I’ll admit I’m not certain this will work. If I give it a few more months of thought, it’s poss-”

She didn’t let him finish. “I trust you,” Edelgard nodded her head. She really did, no matter now hard her heart was beating in fear. “Don’t you worry about that.”

This time, the smile she flashed was genuine. “If I let you work any harder, you just might beat Lysithea and I to the grave.”

\---

Linhardt’s efforts toward crest removal had manifested infeasible idea after infeasible idea, until Lysithea’s symptoms had begun to rapidly worsen. Manuela had estimated she only had about a single, painful year left at her rate of deterioration, with about two for Edelgard.

The normally-lazy scholar had begun to, of his own volition, work at an absolutely breakneck pace. He was spotted locked in what was once Professor Hanneman’s office, day in and day out, until Caspar had quite literally dragged him out to their bed several times. After a while, Manuela had been sent out in his stead to scan their bodies with a crest analysis device-- She was more difficult, he observed, to say no to.

After two months, Linhardt had discovered two things.

The first was that he was far more susceptible to caffeine addiction than he once anticipated.

The second was exactly how their blood had been altered.

To the small team privy to what was taking place today, he had described their bodies like a web, which contained at key points about eight small slivers of crest stones buried shallowly beneath skin, fat, and muscle. Though they were tiny enough to avoid being felt, especially nestled into nerveless scar tissue, they added up to just barely over a half a crest stone’s worth of shards.

The power of crests was contained in human blood, and passed down through bloodlines. According to Linhardt, the second crest that they beared had been introduced by injecting them with a foreign strain of treated blood containing it. The shards laid out throughout their body were attuned to that foreign blood and its crest, renewing the foreign blood and preventing the body from breaking it down over time, functionally giving their host a second crest. Those shards constantly did their job by sapping vital nutrients from the body, eventually killing their hosts.

Fortunately, with a fair bit of risk, reversing it seemed to be as simple as rapidly excising them from the body, with not even a minute between shards. 

Linhardt had been far too nonchalant about it. 

In the best case scenario, it was likely that removing one of the shards in the wrong order would cause the rest to go haywire, transforming them into a mindless demonic beast.

In the worst case scenario, it would mutate them into a terrifying abomination, self-aware but unable to accept what it had become.

_“Buuuut don’t worry,”_ he’d reassured their horrified faces. _“I’m pretty sure I have this right.”_

\---

Byleth had been there when Hubert suggested they perform the procedure in Garreg Mach’s dungeons-- secluded, secure, and the safest place for them to be if something went horribly wrong.

She’d never heard Edelgard speak so forcefully toward him as she did in that moment. 

_“No one alive will ever walk me down the steps of a dungeon again. If I’m to face this, I’ll do it somewhere free.”_

So it was no surprise that the impromptu procedure was carried out somewhere special and safe, somewhere that Edelgard and Byleth constantly retreated to during the those trying times. A place where they would, in the brief minutes of time they stole, stare out at the water and wonder together.

They stood on the wooden planks of Garreg Mach’s modest dock, bathed in the early afternoon sunlight.

It was still a few minutes until Manuela was due to arrive. Edelgard had ordered the guards to vacate everyone in the area several hours prior. They stood at each entryway, upright and intimidating, though they didn’t dare turn around-- She promised that anyone who did would personally answer to her for their overstep.

The dress that Edelgard wore was sewn for her in a hurry, but designed specifically for this endeavor alone. It was designed both to let the process go along seamlessly, and to offer her some dignity despite the access to her body needed during the procedure. Medical gowns and raggedy tunics alike were every bit equal to shackles in her mind. But this—this was quite a bit different. 

She was clad in flowing, sheer white fabric, held up by an ornate, high halterneck that crossed over her shoulders, securing with two straps just behind her neck, leaving her upper back exposed. Her arms were covered in thin lace. The light color and texture allowed their small group to ensure that a wound wasn’t left open during the procedure. Several slits in its design allowed access to her legs, though she walked carefully to avoid needlessly exposing them. Its loose, open composure allowed easy access to her scars wherever it was needed. The violet loincloth-skirt sewed into her dress draped in front from her waist to her ankles, protecting her modesty. 

Though she was proud of the reflection she saw in the water, the pit in her stomach made her wonder if she’d gone a bit overboard in her bravery. It felt like the type of outfit she could have worn at the White Heron Cup several years ago. She remembered how bold she was back then, offering to volunteer if no one stepped up to compete. Fortunately, Dorothea had spared her from what she now understood was far too risque an outfit to feel confident wearing in front of a crowd.

Two of the crest shards to be removed were embedded just above her ankles, forcing her out of her boots and into a pair of brown sandals. The leather cords crisscrossed up her legs, stopping just below her knees. 

Without the benefit of heels, Edelgard was at-present even shorter than Lysithea, an insecurity that her mind couldn’t seem to stop reminding her of. To add insult to injury, Byleth had worn her usual outfit, boots and all. She already had to angle her chin up a bit whenever she normally spoke to Byleth, but craning her neck up at her partner was far too much for her to accept. An uncomfortable blush began to radiate from her cheeks. It wasn’t that Byleth was too tall for her. In fact, she loved that she was a little taller-- It was comforting. But her anxiety was already sky-high, and the new, drastic height difference between them was just one more thing to feel strange about. 

Edelgard’s embarrassment didn’t elude her partner’s eyes. Though Byleth was horribly oblivious of what prompted it, she dared to fancy a guess. It was probably the same thing making her own cheeks go rosy--

\--Her outfit was breathtakingly gorgeous. Byleth’s heart absolutely pricked with guilt at feeling this way now of all times, but the feeling still bubbled up as she became increasingly aware of how fast her heart was beating. For years, Edelgard’s outfits had grown as heavy and reserved as her burdens. They were no strangers to each others bodies, but the lingerie that Edelgard regularly chose to wear was regal and refined-- Draping with dark silk that hung from her arms, hiding her skin in a sea of deep black and rich scarlet. Elegant lace skirts that tapered off into dark stockings, letting only the smallest bit of skin peak through. 

Aside from the windows of skin that Edelgard allowed to peek through her clothing, Byleth was still quite the stranger to the sight of her body. Seeing her with her head held high, carrying herself with poise and pride despite her uncertain blush, Byleth felt like she was witnessing an entirely new side of her. Their eyes connected, and Edelgard gave Byleth a gentle nod of approval as she leaned in a bit, allowing her hands to drift over the Emperor’s shoulders. They were still defined with lithe muscle, even after all this time. The exposed skin was chilly to the touch-- Today was quite a bit more windy than they anticipated. She felt honored being trusted to hold her like this, and Byleth’s first instinct was to pull her into a tight, warm hug-- But the words that came out of Edelgard’s mouth left her mind instantly addled.

“Byleth”, Edelgard whispered, looking down at Byleth’s boots as her partner’s fingers glided over the straps of her dress. “Do you… think you could take those off for me?” she asked warmly.

The question drained the color from Byleth’s face before it erupted back into a burning blush. “W...What?” she stammered.

She _never_ got this embarrassed in front of Edelgard, and they both knew it. Byleth could feel herself biting at her trembling lower lip. She covered the spectacle with the back of her hand, her eyes growing wider as she averted them from the clasp of Edelgard’s dress. Did she really wish for her to unclasp it?

“El…?” she blurted out, the strength in her voice shying away from her as she grew more confused by the second.

“Byleth, are you embarrassed…?” Edelgard smirked, a giggle escaping from her lips. She was genuinely surprised. She was always so stoic and adaptable-- Surely something like this wasn’t phasing her, right?

“You’re not?” Byleth whispered back to her. She looked absolutely fretful as Edelgard ran a hand though her hair. Edelgard almost felt guilty about how cute this was.

“I suppose a little,” Edelgard confessed with a warm smile. “That’s why I wanted you to join me.”

Her heart absolutely melted at the whimper Byleth let out. The perfect posture the ex-mercenary had held was reduced to bouts of antsy squirming as she shuffled in place.

Mirth and guilt were vying for control of Edelgard’s heart as she covered her mouth with a cupped hand, laughing with joy. Goodness, this certainly wasn’t how she expected the lead up to crest removal to be.

Byleth was always so collected and strong-- There was a part of Edelgard’s heart that was thrilled to have the opportunity to gently tease her a little, to reduce her to a state that was utterly, absolutely cute.

It almost felt excessive. Silently, she made a mental note to herself to discuss this odd little quirk later.

“But I suppose we can let it go for now,” Edelgard giggled.

“I…” Byleth stammered, her eyes still angled toward the ground. “I think you're perfect just the way you are now, El!” she blurted out, her eyes quivering with newfound embarrassment as she bit at her lip. “I love how you look right now!”

“Byleth…” she whispered, looking up to cradle her taller partner's warm cheek, stroking it a shade redder. She was genuinely touched. “Thank you. You're right, my love. I think you're absolutely perfect how you are too. I’m sorry I worried about something so trivial.”

“D-" Byleth's left hand blindly grasped for Edelgard’s, finding it and grasping her tightly. Her voice was barely audible. “Does this mean we don't have to get na--"

The loud knocking behind them caused them both to turn around to the sight of Manuela knocking against a beam of the docks wooden stand.

“This is honestly adorable,” she smirked. “And normally I'd like to see you both squirm just a bit more. Especially Byleth. The mercenary squirmed uncomfortably as Manuela’s eyes settled on her.

“But we really need to get started, if that's alright.”

The levity that Edelgard experienced moments earlier softened the blow as she grew more serious, giving a stern nod.

Only Byleth was able to notice how tightly she was clutching her hand.

\--- 

The three healers beside Linhardt slowly let down their hoods. Byleth recognized their faces—They were members of a white magic battalion assigned to Dorothea during the war, allies whose warm light engulfed Byleth time and time again. It stung at her heart that those names, memorized in a hurry during the war, no longer lingered in her mind. She knew that she was a creature of habit, and a foreboding one at that-- Without the familiarity that being an instructor fostered, there were few outside of the Black Eagle House that made any effort to get close to her. 

Their presence was welcome all the same. There was a time where Byleth would have been capable of numbing the pain Edelgard was going to have to endure from this procedure, effortlessly healing her in comforting waves of white magic. But those days were long-gone. Sothis’s powers had vacated her body, and though she still grasped the intricacies of magic, her body refused to conjure up anything satisfactory anymore. A small spark to light candles was about all she could manage these days.

Edelgard, Lysithea, herself-- Though they’d earned their place in these peaceful days, they’d certainly withered. That horrible war was their prime and their legacy. Day by day and year by year, Byleth’s mind clouded just a bit as she realized the truth-- They would only grow frailer, less capable of enjoying the world around them as pain came to rest in their thoughts instead.

At least, she thought so, until Lysithea’s loud protests seemed to rip the thought from her head.

“Get them out of here!” Lysithea demanded. The daggers she stared into the three mages were a bit unwarranted-- Byleth could see one of them anxiously fumbling with her hood, a biting sentence away from outright covering her head with it.

“Lysithea!?” Manuela chided. “H-how did you even get down h-”

Her question trailed off as she looked at the knight guarding the path behind Lysithea. His eyes were cast toward the ground, his lance leaning limp against the wall. From his expression, she could tell that he’d never been on the receiving end of Lysithea’s verbal thrashing. He looked to be a few seconds away from crying. 

With a sigh, Manuela returned her attention to Lysithea. “Why are you here?”

“I’m going to be healing Edelgard.” Lysithea declared, giving a little tilt of her head away from the group. “Send them back.”

Manuela shook her head. “You’re in no condition to heal a scrape, let alone something like this. Please don’t make me have Byleth escort you b-”

The hiss Lysithea let slip was enough to interrupt Manuela on its own. 

“Edelgard!” she shouted at the Emperor, who still had her back turned to the Monastery’s pond. “You know what? You’re honestly the worst sometimes!”

Motionless, she stayed silent.

“I never trusted _anyone_ with this before you,” her voice grew a bit quieter. Her eyes drifted downward. “Do you remember how much we danced around the subject before you came right out and said it? How scary it was? That was _our_ bond. Every night, that was what eased my heart and made me know I made the right choice. There was always someone leading our group that knew exactly how I felt, and someone who knew that I could understand some of their pain.

“You’re like a sister to me Edelgard.”

Sharp fingernails dug into the back of Byleth’s hand as she watched the scene unfold. Though Lysithea couldn’t see it, Edelgard had shut her eyes since she started talking. Soft wrinkles of thought creased her brow.

“You know how much I hate it when people pity me,” Lysithea continued. Resentment made her words bitter, though Byleth could make out the sorrow hiding behind them. “What, are you worried it will fail? Were you really ready to just leave me the last person alive with this, while I thought about how I did nothing the entire time?”

Lysithea’s eyes glazed over. “Can’t risk me dying from exhaustion while I help you, right? _Clearly_ you’d rest easy with me rotting away in some bed for months, knowing you spared me a few minutes of danger. Thank you _very_ much.”

Edelgard lowered her head. 

“After all, what right do I have to want to help you tear out what they carved into our bod--”

“Lysithea!” Edelgard loudly quaked out her name. Her voice strained to stay composed.

“Lysithea, come here.” 

She shrank away, just a bit, before emboldening herself to walk forward. Very few people snapped back at Lysithea’s outbursts, for all the wrong reasons. Her interactions were so often drenched in poorly-concealed pity that she’d resigned herself after a while to always expect it.

A simple shout was enough to reveal how little experience she had with people treating her like an equal-- and how poorly she knew how to deal with it. 

By the time she reached Edelgard, it was taking all her energy to ensure she held eye contact as the Emperor turned around.

An endeavor she never had to attempt-- The moment their eyes met, she glimpsed the tears crawling down Edelgard’s cheeks as she pulled Lysithea into an embrace a bit too tight for her constitution. 

There were no platitudes, no apologies, no explanations.

“Do you want them here to assist you?” Edelgard whispered to her, “Or should I send them away?”

Lysithea stifled a sniffle as she craned her head away from them. With a signal of Edelgard’s hand, she dismissed the battalion members. They excused themselves with a polite bow.

“A sister, huh?” Edelgard cooed into her ear. 

Lysithea tensed up tightly between Edelgard’s arms, until she kept speaking--

“I love that.”

– And it melted away, into warm tears that soaked through Edelgard’s dress.

“R..Really?” Lysithea managed to stammer it out under her breath.

“Really,” Edelgard replied warmly. “I never thought anyone would call me that ever again.” She ran a hair through her matching hair. “It’s been such a long time.”

She could hear Lysithea trying to steady her breath. “Me either...” she confessed.

She rocked Lysithea gently in her arms. “Then ‘Sister’ it is. I’m glad you’re here, sister. I’m--” Edelgard fruitlessly blinked at her tears, but she couldn’t get them to stop flowing.. She could feel Lysithea’s smile against her neck.

“I’m glad someone here understands.”

It was the first time Edelgard had seen her cry.

For just a moment, the world had permitted Lysithea to be herself. Sobbing openly, she threw her composure to the wind as she cried into Edelgard’s chest, helped along by a phrase Edelgard repeated until she was absolutely sure it wasn’t necessary.

“I’m right here, Sister.”

\--- 

They started far later than they intended, but not a soul dared to take up the issue with the five people standing at the dock.

Edelgard stood in the center of the group-- Linhardt several feet behind, Manuela directly in front of Edelgard, clutching a surgical guideline. An afternoon wind had started to pick up, and she would have wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, were she not accompanied at each hand by Byleth and Lysithea. The young mage had eventually regained her composure along with Edelgard, gratitude still plastered on her normally guarded face. Byleth was there, ever-accepting of the situation as always-- Keenly reading her anxiety, but radiating a strength she truly needed to feel right now. Her and Byleth sat in simple, stained wooden chairs fetched from the dining hall, while the rest towered over them, making their final preparations. She clung nervously to Byleth’s hand. It was impossible to comfortably accept that there was any chance of this being her final minutes.

It took her a few moments to notice the change running through her as Byleth squeezed back at her hand, peering intently at her. A warm wave of heat began to coat Edelgard’s body, steeping into her fingertips and radiating down her arm to split off in many directions, heating her from head to toe. It reminded her of the gentle sensation one got when they basked in the sun in front of a warm window. Though she was aware of her own anxiety, it felt dulled, suppressed. 

Was this…?

“Byleth, is this healing magic?” she asked in bemusement. The last time she’d been healed by Byleth, her green hair danced with a surging energy that had long left her.

The amused little chuckle that Byleth let out caused her to blush. Had she shown just a little too much excitement? She’d never seen anyone cast something like this before.

“Not quite,” Byleth admitted. “Do you know how healing magic works, El?” 

She shook her head. “Not the specifics of it, I’m afraid not.” Strategy and combat had been her forte, but she never took the time-- never had the time-- to peer through the sprawling patterns and jargon-laden texts that the likes of Hubert and Lysithea religiously pored over.

“Well,” Byleth started to explain herself. Surrounded by everyone at the dock and listening to her teacher lecture her, the moment was wonderfully nostalgic.

“When you heal someone, you think of something that brings you--”

Her forehead creased in thought-- It always did when she laid her feelings bare. “Peace, basically. A sense of calm. Some people also think of something broken coming together and mending, like a torn garment. It’s just meant to guide your magic in the right direction. Healing spells come from your emotions going inward, and destructive spells come from your emotions going outward. The more you practice, the more magic you can freely draw on, the more you can do. Though a big part of it is also natural affinity to magic.”

She smiled at Edelgard a bit sheepishly. “I’m afraid I don’t seem to have much to draw on anymore though. Certainly not enough to heal someone. Thinking about a calm moment wouldn’t do much of anything.”

This really _was_ confusing now. “Then what’s happening?” Edelgard pressed her for an answer, her face taken with curiosity. 

Something between pride and embarrassment played on Byleth’s face as a smile twitched at the ends of her lips. “This warmth only happens when I think of you,” she admitted, “And I wasn’t even sure you’d be able to feel it back. It’s something that builds inside me, and I guess I can channel it into you.”

“And,” Byleth’s voice grew a bit gentler, “it’s just about the only thing I can still conjure up.”

Edelgard’s cheeks were nowhere near ready enough to handle that bit of knowledge-- It was hard to tell where Byleth’s warm magic pulses ended and where the burning flush of her own embarrassment began.

“I-I see...” she stammered out, the prying tone in her voice utterly shattered.

Byleth gripped her hand a bit tighter. “I was never one for magic before that transformation, but I like to think that Sothis left me this one spell as a parting gift,” Byleth giggled. 

She laughed more often these days, but it still made Edelgard’s heart skip a beat every time. They were always so sincere.

“I like to think she thought I’d have some use for it,” Byleth mused. “Or maybe she meant it as a gift for you, El.”

“You think Fódlan’s Goddess wanted _me_ to have a gift?” Edelgard asked. It was meant to be incredulous, but she couldn’t muster up the bite right now for her voice to reflect anything but eased exhaustion.

“Is it all that strange?” Byleth gently cocked her head.

It was her turn to giggle now. “It is. Very much so.” 

Her expression softened at Byleth’s curiosity. “But somehow when you say it, my heart feels perfectly convinced of it.”

Amid their conversation, Manuela finally cleared her throat to remind them of her presence. Byleth could practically _feel_ the strain on Manuela’s face as she tried to balance the duty of surgical demeanor, on the Emperor of all people, with the desire to tease them over their lovesick comments.

Somehow, the former won out. “If you’re all prepared, _ladies,_” she snuck in a single chiding word, “I think we’re set to begin.”

The mood was draped in heaviness again, though it was far more comfortable than Edelgard imagined. This spot was definitely the right place to go through with it.

She nodded. “What must I do?” she prompted Manuela. 

“You just need to close your eyes, and keep talking to Byleth,” Manuela reassured her. “I can’t promise you this will be painless, but I can promise you that Lysithea and I will be so good that we won’t let a drop of blood land on that dress.”

“Not a drop?” Edelgard averted her head, leaning it against Byleth as she closed her eyes. That was hard to believe, but the sentiment was kind-- she couldn’t stand having blood on her clothes. Her childhood involved many nights spent sleeping in tight shackles and blood-spotted rags. The sound of Manuela’s scalpel exiting its sheath forced out a momentary cringe of revulsion, even through Byleth’s wonderful spell.

“Not a drop,” Lysithea echoed, breaking the hold on their hands. “Now quit talking to us,” she rebuked Edelgard, a rare glimmer of joy drenching her words. “This is going to require a lot of focus, and I’m not screwing it up.”

“Right,” Edelgard’s voice trailed off as fresh pulses of Lysithea’s white magic spilled over her, intermingling with the warm energy that Byleth was continuing to radiate over every inch of her body. If it wasn’t for the circumstances, she would have felt positively giddy from it.

Despite the dire situation, she felt downright hopeful. Hopeful enough to allow a rare question to escape her lips.

“So where do you want to go together first?” Edelgard whispered to Byleth, ignoring the sound of Manuela and Lysithea silently shuffling around about her. It seemed they still had a few things to take care of-- perhaps they were examining her scars. “And not in a ‘One Day’ daydream sort of way, this is happening.”

“Hmm...” Byleth hummed against Edelgard, still clutching her hand tight. She sounded oddly distracted. “Byleth?” Edelgard prompted.

“Sorry,” Byleth apologized. “You’re going to probably find this a bit odd--”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” Edelgard insisted. “Go on, please! It’s very rare for you to offer up your desires like this. I really want to know now.”

“Well,” Byleth started. “I want to go to Remire Village with you. For a little while, for a long while, I’m not really sure which.”

If this was a normal situation, if she was enjoying this conversation over a warm cup of tea, she knew that Byleth’s answer would have made her choke on it.

But this was a far cry from normal. Her mind was so subdued by the peaceful feelings cascading over her that she almost felt disconnected from the ramifications of those words. No matter how much she lingered on the tragedy of Remire, no matter how much she blamed herself for her failure to break free of _their_ clutches, her heart refused to allow her to spill over the edge into self-loathing and anxiety. 

It almost felt like a dream.

And so she pondered Byleth’s answer thoughtfully before she allowed herself to respond. “What about Remire makes you so eager to go there again? I know you lived there briefly, but I’d imagine that would just make it hurt more to see it again like that.”

She gave a happy hum as Byleth’s free hand cradled her head. It was a welcome distraction from how horribly long this was taking to get started. From behind her, she could have sworn she heard Linhardt let out an audible sigh.

“I’m very proud of them,” Byleth boasted in a quiet tone, her mouth just inches from Edelgard’s ear. Edelgard shivered at her hot breath. Despite her eased emotions, she felt much more sensitive than she usually did to Byleth’s touch. “Almost no one left, you know. They rebuilt, reinvented. It’s a beautiful village again. Even more beautiful than when I first visited it. A lot of people ended up moving there after the war. There’s about four times as many people as there were a decade ago.”

“Really?” Edelgard marveled. She knew from war reconstruction data that Remire had experienced a population jump, but it was a still a little blip of a village. In her head, Remire was still a blighted, tragic place. A place where people walked with their heads down.

“You’ve been there twice. Once when you met me and we were nearly killed, and once when… _that_ happened.

“I want to show you its’ beauty, El. I want to show you somewhere that you remember as terribly sad, and show you that its become very happy.”

Between the mellowing magic pulsing through her, and her exhaustion alongside Lysithea earlier, Edelgard was pretty sure she was all cried out for the day. But Byleth was certainly pushing it right now.

“I love that.” she whispered back.

“Plus,” Byleth pulled her body in a little closer, “Our old mercenary garrison is still there, and no one’s ever going to use it again. I’d like to take a little time and fix it up with you. I think it would make a lovely home, for however long we stay.”

Her eyes were still squeezed shut, but she was sure that Byleth was smiling just as hard as her at the prospect. “You’ll have to do the heavy lifting on the furniture after this procedure, I’m afraid to say,” Edelgard smirked. “But I’m sure we’ll pick out some lovely things together.”

“That won’t be any trouble at all,” Byleth mirthfully boasted. “Hey El?”

“Yes, Byleth?” she shifted awkwardly.

“Open your eyes.”

“But--” she started, before the meaning of those words hit her full-force.

Blinking away at the influx of bright sunlight, her eyes were immediately drawn to the ebony shard that Manuela carefully held between two fingers, laying it down on a tray with a long row of its partners. Manuela looked a touch paler than she was before they started, but relief was painted on her face.

The sensation of healing was the first thing to fade, though pain didn’t replace it. Lysithea wasn’t standing where she was when Edelgard first closed her eyes. Instead, she sat kneeling on the ground, one hand on the floor keeping her upright, sweat dripping off of her hair in steady beads. She looked up with an unfocused stare.

Lips parted and speechless, Edelgard looked down at her, still addled with confusion.

“Not a drop of blood on you.” Lysithea grinned through her exhaustion. “How’s that for healing? If those freaks are out there watching this somehow, I won’t give them the satisfaction. We’ll do me next, once I get some rest.”

The neat, purple scarline running over her forearm, replacing the faded mess of tissue that once sat there, was proof of her incredible work.

She looked around aimlessly in a daze-- At Linhardt, at Manuela, at Lysithea, and finally at Byleth, before settling on throwing the question out into the universe. 

“How?” she stammered.

Byleth’s spell slowly tapered off as she released Edelgard’s hand, pulling her into an embrace. Aside from heavy soreness along the points where the shards were removed, she seemed to feel completely alright, though on some level she found herself already longing for that dreamy sensation again. “We noticed it when Manuela made the first incision,” Byleth explained. “You didn’t seem to feel it at all. Not her hands, or the blade, or anything. So we just kept going while I spoke to you.”

“The first two ones were terrifying,” Linhardt chimed in, walking over to help Lysithea up as she leaned on him for support. His posture was almost comically perfect, his hands still trembling with excitement. Pride wasn’t something she normally associated with Linhardt, but he wore it well right now. “But once we removed the first pair without you transforming, I knew we were in the clear.” 

He smiled. “Lysithea should be no problem now.”

“So it’s…?” Edelgard stammered. 

“Gone,” he completed the thought. “And good riddance. Your body no longer maintains the Crest of Flames. You probably won’t feel it for a few weeks until that blood cycles out, but that’s a rather intimidating power you’re losing. I’m worried it will be a little hard to adjust to, frankly. You’ll still have your birth crest, but a minor crest won’t feel anything like it did before.”

“I know it’s hard to take seriously coming from me,” he smirked, “but get plenty of rest. You’re going to need it to make a full recovery.”

Though his good spirits registered in her mind, they hadn’t quite made it to her heart yet. She sat, still surveying the group with bemused eyes.

“The whole time I was thinking that I just didn’t want it to hurt, you know,” Byleth chimed in. “That I didn’t want you to hiss in pain and think about the past and feel…”

She paused. “_Violated._ I wasn’t sure if it was really working or if you were just bearing through it.

“So, it really helped then?” Byleth asked hopefully.

“It’s gone...” Edelgard whispered.

It was really, _really_ gone.

Those restraints they put on her future were broken.

She fully expected the chiding Lysithea, Linhardt, and Manuela gave her as she leapt up from the chair, exuberantly repeating herself. Her wounds were very fresh, after all.

She anticipated how loud their warnings would grow as she seized Byleth in her arms, lifting her up and spinning her around in a final display of her fleeting, terrible strength. 

But as the couple let out a chorus of elated shouts and laughter, Edelgard could barely make out the objections until she stifled herself and Byleth with a deep, grateful kiss. 

\--- 

_Present Day_

The cozy sleep they both sank into was broken by the gentle rapping of the driver at the door of the now-stationary stagecoach. Her husky voice was familiar, though Byleth couldn’t quite place it.

“Pardon me, ladies!” she shouted loud enough to get through the muffle of the door. She sounded rather nervous. “We’ve arrived! I’ll get your things out for you.”

Though she was certain they couldn’t keep up the guise of anonymity for too long, Edelgard wanted to preserve the feeling in this town for as long as she could. No one here besides their driver was privy to it. Most people hadn’t personally seen Fódlan’s former Emperor after all. Their image of her was likely a tall, regal terror, her hair in a tight bun and her horned crown imposing, dressed in stuffy sanguine armor and clutching her bloodthirsty axe. It was still an image that, much to her chagrin, marked quite a bit of the older currency still in circulation, the face of the indomitable Adrestian empire. 

But as they stepped off of the carriage together, she felt at least mildly confident about their chances. Few people would recognize her under her younger namesake of ‘El’, especially with her appearance shed of its warlike visage. She still felt a little unconfident about the sweeping side ponytail that her hair was tied into, but one-too-many compliments over it from Byleth had emboldened her enough to give it a try in public. Gone was both her heavy armor and that horrid shade of crimson that she found inseparable from the memory of war.

The short dress she wore was embroidered with an simple pattern composed of the unified Fódlan’s rich, dark purple color. It was far more feminine than the military regalia she wore in her youth at Garreg Mach, and a hair longer, much to her appreciation. Past her sheer black stockings, she’d gone back to wearing ankle boots-- Black, with a purple heel and base. Truth be told she was still very much getting her strength back. Given her own say of things she almost wanted to propose that her and Byleth drop heeled boots altogether, but just the thought of it made her recall Byleth’s adorable little meltdown at the dock. For now, she’d make do with it. Tying her entire outfit together was a purple half-cloak which wrapped around her right side back-to-chest, this time embroidered with black. Overall, she was rather proud of it. People would likely assume that she was wealthy, but she no longer resembled the fearsome image of Edelgard that most people held in their minds. 

As for her love, ‘Lady Eisner’ and ‘Professor Eisner’ were far more common newsworthy names than ‘Byleth’ was. To most people here, she was likely still the mercenary girl who owned that tiny little barracks, returned to somewhere familiar in a time where most mercenaries were hanging up their blades for good. Short of a few squashed power squabbles immediately following Rhea’s death, war did not loom on the horizon, nor did Fódlan have the energy for it anymore.

It was extraordinarily difficult to get Byleth to change anything about her appearance, and Edelgard practically had to beg to get her to not come here dressed in the style she kept since they first met. 

It _sort_ of worked, all things considered. She still sported black shorts, decorated with little violet buttons. Edelgard had managed to convince her to abandon her strange-patterned stockings in favor of a pair of opaque black tights. Though she would sooner bite her tongue than work up the nerve to tell her, the sight of Byleth’s muscular legs outlined through them made her heart skip a few beats. They vanished into the border of a familiar pair of heeled black boots, just shy of knee-length. 

The major items she’d acquiesced on were confined to her torso. Instead of her armor, Byleth now wore a form-fitting, black blouse, cut long in the front to show off quite a bit of her chest, traces of faded scars and all. It was detail that Byleth rather like and that Edelgard was rather antsy about, but accepted it as meeting in the middle. She adored the sleeves of it, cut long and flaring out at the wrists.

The long purple cloak that Byleth wore perfectly matched Edelgard’s in hue, though she insisted on the symbol of the long-defunct Jeralt’s Mercenaries that she wore with pride for so long to be embroidered onto it in black.

They were still quite the strange pair, but as far as Edelgard could tell their appearance offered them more than enough discretion. She was grateful that their home was on the outskirts of Remire, rather than the heart of it. 

Edelgard took a few grateful gulps of clean air, stretching her sore limbs as the driver began to lower their luggage from the carriage. Meanwhile, Byleth briefly excused herself and sprinted up the hill to their home to examine it properly. They’d already sent a scout to make sure that the building wasn’t destroyed, looted, or being squatted in, but a good habit was a good habit.

She looked around, taking a quick survey of their surroundings-- The woods where she’d first met Byleth to the north, a rather quiet river running to the east, and a poorly-maintained dirt road running south to central Remire. It was the first time she’d seen it since that horrible day. Byleth wasn’t exaggerating-- It was still quite modest, but was over three times as big as it was before. Brick homes now thrived where burning wooden ruins once collapsed around her. 

The sight didn’t make her feel any less guilty, but it eased her heart all the same.

Sighing with palpable relief, Edelgard turned back towards the driver. “I appreciate you taking us here on such short notice. And also your discretion.”

She thought she’d said the word lightly, but gentleness evidently wasn’t how it came across, judging by the hurried pace and worried tone of the driver. “A-ah! Of course, of course!” she replied. She was a taller woman, hair cut short and rippling with muscle. Her appearance made it even more striking just how painfully nervous she was to be in this situation. “Just bringing a couple of girls here to make some extra money before I hurry home to Enbarr!”

“Oh?” Edelgard asked curiously. “You’re from Enbarr, then?”

She’d finished laying out their luggage in a neat little row. “Well, m-moved there after the war. My old little village didn’t seem like the right place to bring my wife home to, and I’ve got dreadful memories of it more than anything.”

She laughed nervously, audibly relaxing a bit after Edelgard mirrored her forced smile with a genuine one. “Sorry,” she replied, “It’s just, you’re, you know, and I’m-- you know, and, well I--”

Edelgard placed a hand on her shoulder. “What did you need the extra money for?”

“Oh...” she seemed to grow a shade paler at the potential ramifications. “I’m not trying to get-- Um, please don’t worry about it, you’ve already more than, I’m sor--”

“Is it for your wife?” Edelgard guessed correctly. She gave a half-smile of satisfaction as their driver nodded.

“It’s her birthday in four days. We’ve been just a bit tight, so I was thrilled when I got the summons. I guess you wanted someone who fought for Adrestia to make the trip? Oh I’m sorry, I shouldn’t h--”

“Something like that,” Edelgard interrupted her, reaching for a small pouch that she’d already allotted the driver’s payment into. “Are you going to get her a gift in Enbarr then?”

She giggled at the driver. “I think that would be sweet.”

“Ah...” The woman looked down, even as Edelgard held out the pouch to her. “Well, humbly, I’d love to, but anything worth purchasing in Enbarr right now is just a little past my paygr...”

Her voice trailed off. “gr...”

Their fee was 1200 gold pieces for the trip. She wasn’t about to open up the bag and count for an _Emperor_ of all people, but it was an entire season’s rent, and she had at least a rough idea of what it felt like. 

This was a lot more than 1200 gold pieces.

This was a _lot_ more than 1200 gold pieces, even accounting for generosity. So much so that her eyes were already glazed in confusion as she slowly looked back up at Edelgard.

“Umm…?”

“Your last name is Arnett, right?” Edelgard asked her quietly. “Heavy armor, you wielded an axe, you enlisted in Caspar von Bergliez’ battalion in your mid twenties, is that all correct?” 

“I-- Yes, yes that’s correct,” she nodded, practically breaking a sweat with confusion. “How-"

“Hubert always told the battalion members to not get too close to us, so I know you got the same speech as everyone else. People surmised it was a status issue, but he was particularly diligent about it with Dorothea’s battalion, and she had no title. I think deep down, he thought it would break us to lose any more friends."

The woman didn’t reply, though her knuckles were turning white from how tightly she was clutching the bag. 

“I learned everything I could memorize about every last one of you, even if there was no way to meet you all. I sure tried, even when my aides scolded me for it. I went and spoke with all of you if you got wounded. If needed, I summoned your families and oversaw your funerals. There were two-hundred four of them for battalion members over that war.”

More silence, until she dared to speak up. “I-I can’t speak for everyone,” she swallowed the lump of anxiety in her throat, “but I chose to be there. When you removed Count Varley, that’s when I knew you were different. He ruled my village. He was awful to us, just _awful._”

She flashed a smile at Edelgard. “You didn’t stop there either. I can’t say I know enough to say if one war or another was the best way, or even the right thing to do. That’s all a little past me, frankly. But I was low birth, low as it gets. I’d never have been able to marry her before. Probably never even would have met without the war. So,” she took a deep breath-- Edelgard was pretty sure she’d said that entire thing in one-- “I’m happy to be here. And I’m happy what the world’s turning into.”

“Once everything is changed and reestablished,” Edelgard replied, “Once there aren’t people on the streets while everyone acts like it’s normal, I want to help you all. I want to really meet you all. Whether you’re happy or furious at me, I want to hear it, and I want to thank you however I can.

“I’ve got… more time now,” Edelgard vaguely explained it away. “And that’s part of what I’ve decided on. So please, take it. Take it, and take her somewhere wonderful that you couldn’t before.”

A few tears were pouring down the woman’s face. “I’m not really sure how I’m going to explain this,” she confessed. 

“Tell them the summons forgot to attach a zero at the end,” Edelgard winked as Byleth dexterously scrambled down the hill, returning to her side. 

“It looks perfect,” Byleth smiled. “You know, if five years of dust and filth can be perfect.” She flexed her bicep into a muscle. “I’ll fix it up.”

Noticing her sniffling, Byleth turned toward the driver. “El, did you make this girl cry? I wasn’t even gone for four minutes.”

“Byleth, you’re not supposed to just tell people that you see them cr--”

“She,” the driver gently interrupted, “just said some really beautiful things to me, that’s all. I’m Allison, by the way.” she properly introduced herself to the two.

She shared a thankful smile with Edelgard. “By the way, are you two…?” 

A blush erupted onto Edelgard’s face. Goodness, she’d certainly grown bolder in five minutes, hadn’t she? Silently, playfully, she blamed Byleth for it.

“_Oh_,” Edelgard averted her eyes, well that’s a bit of a-- aaaaahh! Byleth!” she shouted as the former mercenary effortlessly scooped her up into a princess carry, proudly staring down at her.

“We’re in love,” Byleth said as casually as if she were ordering a meal. Edelgard, completely out of options, buried her face into Byleth’s shoulder as she let out a muffled whine. “A lot. I’m pretty sure she can’t get up that big hill right now, but she’s probably going to try anyway, so I’m just going to carry her up and come back for all our stuff.”

Edelgard continued to protest as Byleth carried her up the hill toward their modest home, even as her protests collapsed into pleased, embarrassed laughter.

“El,” Allison could hear from the carriage, “Doesn’t that girl look super familiar?”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Edelgard promised.

Still clutching the bag that would make life so much easier, Allison waited until the two were blips on the hill before she allowed fat tears to roll down her cheeks. 

She spent the entire war grateful for and terrified of that woman.

Her memory was a little fuzzy, but she remembered General Caspar’s words all the same-- They sounded like the words of a crazy person after all. 

_“Nah, she’s so sweet when you get close to her! Professor Byleth’s the one who can get really scary when she wants to. I’d seriously rather fight a bear.”_

Closing her teary eyes while she smiled, she hoped Edelgard’s ears weren’t good enough to hear her thoughts from down here. 

“Seems you’ve got a wife who isn’t the least bit intimidated by you,” she giggled. “Good for you.”

“Thank you, Emperor Edelgard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been a while. This chapter is being posted just after Thanksgiving, and I hope it was lovely for any of you celebrating it.
> 
> I'm terribly sorry and honestly really embarrassed over the delay on this one. AO3 obviously has no way to give status updates and is really not the right medium to discuss this, but I spent October extremely ill with some very debilitating medical issues that I thought I beat which finally got really heavy, and appear to have been resolved with a lot of trial and error from my extremely patient doctor. I gave myself a few weeks to relax and to make sure I wasn't getting ahead of myself, but I really do appear to be better and my doctor has given me a clear bill of health. I am really looking forward to regularly updating again.
> 
> I adore this story with all my heart and you don't need to worry about me hanging it up, and I also want you to know that you won't have to-- and shouldn't have to-- wait months for me to update it. Being too sick to write was maddening and really upsetting, and I hope I never have to go through that again.
> 
> This is a chapter about healing, which has been very much on my mind. I really loved writing this one, and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I have quite the backlog of both fics to read and people to reply to. I hope you're all having a wonderful winter, stay warm and happy! <3 I'm already in the process of writing chapter 4 and I look forward to releasing it soon.
> 
> I don't really manage multiple twitter accounts like some writers do, but my twitter handle is @WitchChrysalis. I tend to stay locked just because it's cozier to not have to deal with random people who argue online, but I will accept follower requests from anyone as long as you aren't like homophobic or racist or anything lol. I'm always down to meet kind people so please don't be intimidated by me or anything! That's about it for now, much love to you all.


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